Yes, I am scared of your own reflection
and I am scared of mine too.
please peel me free from this rendition of
what erupted into life anew
false hope, I convince myself
that you must fill me with
that's how it goes, deep into
a wandering version of a myth
what if i can climb to the surface
show my face? It is slipping-
surely slipping, from my
hands back to that place.
I can kill it, dead as dead has been
but yet, again....it gets
the best of me- I cannot see
My dread wrapped in admiration
sometimes it pricks the scenes
with fascination-I feel it break
As soon as words erupt and become real
oh, this is the torturous pain
I take and that I feel.
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